Padfoot and Prongs
by Sophocles
Summary: [slash] Drabbles depicting the relationship between Sirius and James; for various challenges, requests, archives, etc.
1. one through ten

Please see my author page for my SLASH POLICY. All flames must be coherent.

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**PADFOOT and PRONGS**

Drabbles depicting the relationship between Sirius and James; for various challenges, requests, archives, etc.

Also archived at the SiriusxJames Yahoo! Group.

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**RAIN******

Rating: PG

            The drearily soft, yet keenly poignant rain that falls seems to foreshadow what is to come tonight.

            You are soaking wet by the time you reach my doorstep, fringe plastered to your forehead by the rain that has caught in your dark hair. The pungent scent of rainwater permeates throughout, and the only thing sharper is the intense look in your eyes, the raw hurt and need. Your lips, dry and chapped, remain resolutely still, and though you have come thus far, not a word of appeal passes through your mouth; it is left up to me to discern the trembling plea in your gaze, and, as suddenly I realize what you are doing here and why you have come, I curse your silly pride.

            Quickly, I lead you inside by the hand and wrap a warm blanket around your shivering shoulders, pressing soft, gentle kisses on the side of your face all the while.

**RESURRECTION**

Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sex

            When Sirius blinks, his eyes feel heavy, as if he has not done so for a long time—funny, because he can't remember ever closing them in the first place.

            When James blinks, it is with surprise, sorrow, and heartbreak, because although he knows that those who emerge from the Veil do not do so unscathed, he also knows that his (former?) lover's brief sojourn Beyond could not have resulted in the translucent pale hue of Sirius' skin, nor the haunted cast of blue eyes or the time-worn hollows of high cheekbones, too thin in their ascetic glory.

            When Sirius sees James for the first time in almost fifteen years, his mouth falls open and his breath catches, and he is so swept up in the happiness, the sheer glory of it all, that he forgets to ask how James is alive, or how he himself is even alive (they are alive, right?).

            When James learns of Sirius' sufferings, his twelve years in Azkaban, seeking shelter in the cold hollows of caves, trapped in his living nightmare of a childhood home, the one that James swore that Sirius should never lay eyes on again, he cannot stand it anymore, and cries, trails of moisture running down his cheeks, only to be lovingly brushed away by the soft fingers of his (not former) lover.

            When Sirius and James make love again, they give new meaning to the phrase 'the first time', and neither bothers to stop kissing the other, or to explain it all to Harry, who is gaping with a most comical expression.

**ASPHYXIATION**

Rating: PG

            It amuses Sirius to no end, at first, when James buys a goldfish and plops its home right in the middle of their shared dormitory, small and comical in its glass bowl that sits on the nightstand between Sirius' and James' beds. It is cute, he thinks, how James Potter the boy who has so much everything, can find simple pleasures in such a thing as simple as the tiny creature who lives in a bowl on a table, the dear sweet soul.

            He watches silently, seamed into the air and walls as James cares for his dear pet, the little animal whose tail wags cutely as it eats, and watches the smile that spreads of James' face, the purity of one who knows not of death and pain and heartbreak, but of flowers and quills and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

The other boy's innocence is so endearing, in an unconscious way; he faithfully changes the fish's water, dutifully sprinkles fit amounts of food into the glass bowl. James does not seem to realise that there is anything more important, more severe than this, and Sirius, careful to hide the bruises that he returns with every summer from vacation, cannot find the heart to tell him.

            Oh, how Prongs' naïveté circles tautly around his neck.

            He wonders if James would ever be that loving with him, care for him so tenderly and warmly, eyes sparkling guileless and hazel, and Sirius almost fancies that they are gold, like the fish.

            And the yearning, ripping sensation wraps firmly around his midriff like a corset and he can feel the laces been drawn tighter and tighter until he thinks he will die from the suffocation.

**BEAUTIFUL MORNING**

Rating: PG

            James Potter awoke, blinking groggily as bright shards of sunlight peaked through the hangings of his bed and lit into his eyes. Shaking the covers off his sprawled form, he ran a hand through his rumpled black hair and leaned over the edge of the mattress to reach for his shoes. He was just about to shove his left foot into one unlaced shoe when suddenly he remembered something.

            Grinning as he swept away the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed next to his, he half-leapt, half-climbed onto the mattress, hoisting himself up so that he straddled his lover's sleeping form.

            Sirius' eyelids fluttered open, blue eyes wide. "James."

            James grasped Sirius's shoulders and kissed the other boy long and hard. Sirius blinked a few times in surprise before parting his lips to allow James' tongue to explore his mouth. The two of them lay there in Sirius' bed, the unspoken passion heavy between them, and James didn't let go until he could no longer breathe. He pulled away slightly, panting as he stared at the boy in front of him, with pale high cheekbones and long dark hair, piercing blue-gray eyes and lips swollen slightly from the kisses. James stared, and he felt something pulling at his heart as he silently admired his lover's ascetically beautiful features.

            "Well... Happy Valentine's Day to you, too," Sirius murmured, pulling James back down for another kiss.

**BLURRED VISION**

Rating: PG-13 for attempted suicide

            James hated him.

            He supposed it oughtn't to have mattered as much as it did, not with everything else that had happened. He was still asking himself how he could have been that stupid, how he could have given in to Snape's (Snape, of all people!) taunting, how he could have betrayed his closest friends, his only family... he felt a strange wrenching sensation in his gut, almost like a disease that kept reminding him of his own stupidity...

            And oh, how pained Remus had looked the next morning, the fresh scratches across his skin and arms, and likely other places too. Peter, little watching Peter had looked so apprehensive, more sombre but just as nervous as Sirius knew him to be.

            But most of all, James. James hated him. And that mattered more than it should... because—oh God!—he was empty.

            Without his love for James, he had absolutely nothing.

            Inhaling quickly and sharply, he drew the knife in one swift motion across the fragile white of his wrist, hissing at the jets of pain that shot through his arm and skin, but at the same time sighing with relief as he felt his life begin to leave his body, the grey insensateness wrapping around his limbs.

            His sight obscured, his eyes stinging with tears and pain as he made one more cut across the other wrist. Slowly, he eased his tired body down to the soft plush of the dormitory carpet, propping his steadily bleeding arms up on the points of his knees. His head was spinning, it was light...

            The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the blurred vision of a black-haired hazel-eyed boy throwing open the door and screaming, "Sirius!"

**IMBECILES**

Rating: PG

            Sirius blinked, once, then twice, and gingerly touched his fingers to his lips as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

            "I-I—s-sorry, I don't know what I was thinking... my God, I-I'll just—go now..." James babbled, feeling his own face flush red in embarrassment as he struggled for words, forcing them out of his mouth and willing everything to go away, to evaporate...  he wished he could crawl into an obscure little hole somewhere and die... or better yet, that he had never been born... anything, really, was better than this thick, tense silence that draped over him and Sirius and, oh God, what was he going to do now when—

            "Umf!" It was James' turn to be surprised, eyelids fluttering open as he felt Sirius' lips smash against his suddenly, a repeat of the impulsive kiss that had taken place just seconds before.

            "You imbecile," the other boy said, grinning as he pulled away from his dumbfounded friend. "I love you, too."

**REVERENCE**

Rating: PG

            Funny, how they said it was healthy to communicate with people and talk out one's problems... because it was when James Potter was not talking that he actually felt the most comfortable with himself.

            When James Potter was talking, he sounded assured and self-confident, and some people even said arrogant, but when he was silent, he didn't have those standards, those tenets and their labels to uphold... it was quite liberating, really, he thought to himself as his restlessly curious eyes strayed over to the palely aristocratic profile of his best friend, all wild eyes and sharp cheeks and Grecian nose.

            He wondered what the throng of pupils whom hero-worshipped him would think if they knew that the one whom he loved more than anyone else in the world was not some leggy blonde girl, but this very male, very unattainable epitome of human perfection.

            "Prongs! Earth to Prongs!"

            Startled, James jerked out of his trancelike state, having been caught unawares by the insistent tugging on his sleeve.

            "Are you okay?" Remus whispered under his breath, leaning over slightly toward the dark-haired boy. "You looked really out of it for a moment..."

            "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine—really, I-I am."

            Reluctantly, James gave the object of his affections one last wistful look before facing forward again and putting his face back on. He would need it.

**SEDATION**

Rating: R

            "You sure about this?" He had meant to sound caringly concerned, but the hitch in his breath and the light flush in his face betrayed the barely-restrained excitement that flooded his body in anticipation of what was to come. 

            From below him, Sirius smiled archly. "Why not?" he asked breathily, letting his eyes flutter closed in a sensual flicker of long black lashes. He rested his head back into the plush pillows cushioned behind him, giving an almost-lazy sigh that was really more of an invitation. "Tonight," he informed, reminded gently, "you are in control."

            Feeling the hearty thump against his ribcage, James ground further into his lover's hips, and with one fluid motion, worthy of an athlete, he clasped the cold silver circles shut, and Sirius' thin pale wrists were neatly handcuffed to the bed post.

**THE FIRST TIME**

Rating: PG-13 for implied sex

            Their kiss was long, hard and sweet, full of unspoken passion hanging heavy around the draping curtains of the bed and the crisp sheets, so cool against sweaty skin, embracing the two boys almost as fiercely as they embraced each other, each clutching the arms, legs, hands of his companion as if to let go would be to lose the other forever...

            When finally the heady spell shattered and the pair broke apart, gasping for air, Sirius looked into the hazel eyes of his long-time crush, now-lover, and asked, "How long?"

            James did not need to ask what the other was speaking of. "Forever," he said plainly and truthfully. "It was one day... I don't even know what happened... I just remembered that you were playing the guitar in the common room, that first time, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

            Sirius smiled at the simple beauty of his lover's words. "Oh, Prongs," he breathed, resting his head against James' chest. "I remember—it was your thirteenth birthday."

**THE IDES**

Rating: PG-13 for implied sex

            It would have been far too melodramatic for him to give a melancholy sigh, so James contented himself by exhaling sharply as he traced his fingers lightly over the thin vellum of the dainty calendar sitting on his nightstand, a little stationery-store type artefact that had been a gift from Lily.

            Lily, with her long, dark red hair and green eyes, who was pretty and clever and kind and—

            '—and not Sirius.'

            The tip of his index finger stopped at a halt on one square near the centre of the numbered grid.

            The fifteenth of March.

            The Ides.

            Sirius' birthday.

            'Think of Lily, think of Lily...'

            The anniversary of Sirius and James' relationship.

            'Bright, flashing green eyes and smooth skin and curves and...'

            The day that he and Sirius had broken up, for good. The day that James said that he was no longer able to make that commitment, that they no longer worked as a couple, that he was moving on, that it had meant nothing...

            And that he wanted Lily instead.

            But God, oh God, how he hated that day now, how it seared in his memory, how he wanted to take back every hurtful thing he had ever said and make things right again and hold Sirius to him, feel that angle and muscle and bone under the palms of his hands and stroke that beautiful soft black hair that no girl's shampooed crop could ever rival, and at that moment, James wanted nothing more than to take his lover ('former lover'—wistfully) in his arms, to hug him and kiss him and lay with him, cool white sheets wrapped around their bodies...

            And it hurt so, so much, more than anything he had ever felt before, because even as he let his mind drift away and fantasize of a here and now with the one he loved, he knew that he could never go back to that.

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	2. eleven through seventeen

Please see my author page for my SLASH POLICY. All flames must be coherent.

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**PADFOOT and PRONGS**

Drabbles depicting the relationship between Sirius and James; for various challenges, requests, archives, etc.

Also archived at the SiriusxJames Yahoo! Group.

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**PLEASE UNDERSTAND**

Rating: G

Please understand that I'm not trying to be mean or spiteful or cowardly—I would never do that to you, no matter what happened to us... I'm just trying to do what would be better for both of us.

Please understand that it's not because I'm afraid to love you, or don't want to anymore. My love... well, I guess it'll always be there. There is nothing more important to me than that, but... I know there are things more important than me, and... you know, we've all got to make our sacrifices...

Please understand that I would do anything for our love. Anything I had to give to keep us alive would be free for the taking... but, oh God, I can't give that much... there's nothing bloody left for me to give, so I have to take a little, too, otherwise I'll fade into nothing and disappear. It hurts, it really does.

It's not because I don't love you. It's not because I wouldn't go to any lengths to love you, no matter what conditions that may come with. But all I'm doing is giving and giving, losing and losing, and you... well, I guess you're giving as well, more than you want to. You shouldn't have to do this. If I do anymore I think I'll die.

I'm going to leave. I think it would be the best for both of us, good for you so you can do whatever you want... maybe good for me, so I can keep myself sane. I would sacrifice anything I had for you, still will, if you asked, but when the sacrifices no longer do anything... something, someone else has to give, and I think this is the way to do it.

No hard feelings, all right?

---

Pursing his lips, as if not quite satisfied, or perhaps trying not to cry, Sirius folds the letter, adding two knife-sharp creases in the smooth parchment. His hands, long light-pale fingers dancing over the surface, linger for a few seconds, indecisively. He opens the letter again, poises his quill over the paper, and adds, in his quick, fluid script...

---

P.S. I'll be at your wedding, like I promised. You owe me thirty-galleons for tuxedo rental.

---

He adds a "Dear James" to the top and signs his name at the bottom, and the letter is left on James' night-table, to be read over beer and tears...

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**ONE REQUEST**

Rating: G

The starry night sky was above him and the dewy wet grass was below him and his eyes were closed. He waited with baited breath.

The silence smothered him, clamming onto his skin like thick curtains on a hot summer day. And then—

James felt hands grab his arms, pulling them. Fingers intertwined and he felt the curve of his lover's slim waist under his palm. A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"On one condition," the other man whispered, eyes sparkling.

"Yes?" he replied tentatively, his voice equally quiet.

"Kiss me."

And, admiring the gentle touches of moonlight on Sirius' face, James leaned forward and gave his new fiancé an almost-chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

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**WISTFUL**  
  
Rating: G

"Sirius, I'm sorry, I really am, I didn't mean to hurt you--"  
  
"I understand--"  
  
"--but what I did was... unexcusable--"  
  
"Stop apologising. You can't take all the blame on yourself. This is between the three of us--you, me... her."  
  
"I really wish... I hope... I never meant for this to be at your expense, I..."  
  
"I know. I was a fool to think... to think that..."  
  
"I hope... that maybe you and Lily can still get along in the future. You know, I'll always care about you..."  
  
"That's not necessary."  
  
"Just know... I'll always have a place in my heart for you..."  
  
"I don't bloody want it!"  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"Don't patronise me, James! I don't want a special corner of your heart, a corner of your love. I don't want you to take me and shove me away and hide me somewhere dark where I can't see, and you just... prod at me for your own enjoyment. I'm not like that, James, I can't do that for you."  
  
"I... I..."  
  
Sirius smiled wryly, sadly. "Just take that place in your heart and... save it for Lily. She'll want the whole thing. She deserves it."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
Sirius glanced at the sky, eyelids fluttering under the tranquil morning sun. "You lost the right to ask that question the day you asked her to marry you."

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**INFLUENZA**

Rating: PG  
  
"James, are you all right?" Sirius' expression was worried.  
  
"M'fine," James mumbled from his bedridden state. "Only I think I need a couple more--achoo!--tissues."  
  
Sirius immediately leapt us. "Here, love." He placed the tissues in James' hands and grabbed a damp washcloth from the bedside table. Tenderly, he brushed James' hair back and sponged the sweat off his lover's flushed face.  
  
"S'nice. Feels good."  
  
Sirius frowned slightly. "James, maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"Don't want Madam Pomfrey." James kissed the soft underside of Sirius' arm. "Want you. Would kiss you, but you'd get sick."  
  
"I don't care about that," Sirius said softly. "I probably already got what you have--when I was sick, last month. S'been going around."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good." James tugged Sirius down over him and kissed him firmly on the lips, resting his hands over his friend's slender waist. "You can stay here with me all day, then."

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**UNNECESSARY QUESTIONS**  
  
Rating: PG  
  
He awoke to the feeling of lips on his face, light fluttery kisses that caressed his cheeks, bumped his chin, ghosted over his eyelids.  
  
He opened his eyes, blinking his way toward coherency. "James."  
  
His lover smiled, hair highlighted by the lazy morning curtain-light that brightened his face and eyes. "Knew that would wake you up."  
  
Sirius squinted slightly, delicate morning vision offended by the blatant sunlight. "Wish I could wake up like that every morning, then."  
  
"You can, if you want. Every morning for the rest of our lives."  
  
Sirius paused to look at James' radiant face. "Prongs?"  
  
"Will you marry me?" James blurted in one breath, looking exhausted and exhilarated, grasping Sirius' hands in his own.  
  
It was Sirius' turn to smile. "Did you honestly think you had to ask?"

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**WHEN DARKNESS FALLS**  
  
Rating: PG

He found him there right after the sun had set and the dusky dying light danced on the last blades of grass. The cool blue of starlight had just begun to peek out, and the tiny rivulets kissed and mingled with the last shadows left before the dark-falling.  
  
His steps slowing, he reached out with one hand to touch his lover on the shoulder. "Hey," he said tentatively.  
  
The other man turned around. "James."  
  
"Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for affirmative, James bent down and sat cross-legged next to his dark-haired companion. Sirius remained silent, but inclined his head slightly, and James knew he was grateful for the company.  
  
"I have something for you," James said, shattering the earth-hanging silence. "Here. Don't laugh."  
  
Sirius' grey eyes looked at James questioningly before he reached out to take the proffered box. Slender fingers gently lifted the paper-brown lid to reveal a delicate silver necklace.  
  
James took the thin chain and draped it around Sirius' neck. "Look," he said, grabbing the small charm that hung on the end. "It's supposed to be the stars--see the little specks? It's the night sky."  
  
"James... I don't know what to say."  
  
"I just hope... if you... if you ever feel like I'm not here, this'll remind you that you can't be alone among the stars. Although I can't guess why stars would remind you of me, 'cause you're the one named after a star anyways, but I thought..." James trailed off uncertainly, examining his lover.  
  
Sirius smiled, not his usual wicked grin or exuberant beam, but a soft, endearing, butter-melt smile. "It does remind me of you." He leaned forward to kiss James chastely on the corner of the mouth. "It reminds me that stars will always be there when darkness falls."

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**A PARTING OF WAYS  
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Rating: G

"So... this is it, then?" Those lips are at once tragic and petulant, and at one time, James would have leaned forward and kissed them.  
  
"Yeah," he echoed emptily, and coldly.  
  
Sirius does not look up. James has the distinct impression that the other man is making a conscientous effort not to, because he's never seen anyone look that absorbed in examining their own shoes. Feeling a lump of emotion starting to lodge in his throat, James swallows it and clears his throat.  
  
"Well?" he asks, feeling like he's prodding a caged animal with a stick.  
  
"Well what?" Sirius' eyes still do not stir. The abysmally long lashes form graceful arcs on his high cheekbones. James admires the aesthetic effect for a few seconds before he remembers there are somewhat more important topics to be pondered than the state of Sirius' eyelashes.  
  
"Well... is that all you're going to say?" James wonders if the heat in the hollow of his chest is irritation or something else. Under his rib cage, it feels like there's a porcelain plate shattering. He fancies he can feel the jagged shards.  
  
Sirius' lips purse, and he looks quietly amused. "What else is there to say? There's no point in my telling you anything, but if you want to talk, knock yourself out."  
  
What is there to say? Perhaps Sirius is right, James thinks. But he doesn't want it to be true... doesn't want it like that... he wonders what exactly it is he is trying to do.  
  
"Sirius?" he says, reaching out tentatively with his voice, as if he were expecting to be slapped back like a child stealing cookies from the jar.  
  
The grey of Sirius' eyes isn't visible under the fringe of lashes, and it doesn't feel right. "What?" Sirius asks.  
  
"Are you... could you..." The words wither and die in James' mouth, and leave it feeling dry and thirsty. What he can't say hurts so badly, scraping the inside of his throat like a razor blade. The sensation of glass in his lungs has not dissipated; it rises up in his chest and slashes his voice box and his heart.  
  
Sirius' mouth curls into a wry half-smile, twisted by unshed tears. "Prongs," he says, sounding younger than he ever has before but still older than James, "you can't blame this on me."  
  
At these words, the porcelain in James' chest gives way to fire--the fire of passion, denial, anger, love, and sorrow. They all fight, pounding against his sternum, and his silence still has not broken, because James is afraid of what would come pouring out if it did. Nevertheless, he cannot force them down, and whilst his voice remains resolute, he springs forward and cluthes Sirius to him tightly, stranging and grabbing and possessing, holding the other man's slim frame to his heart as if he were the last piece of home left in the world. And in a way, he is.  
  
"Don't leave me," James' traitorous lips whisper, "please don't leave me."  
  
"You don't want to see me anymore, and I don't need to see you. You've made that perfectly clear already." Obstensibly devoid of emotion, Sirius detaches himself from James' grasp, prying the arms off his waist.  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
Sirius smiles sadly. "All I can do is leave"--and he means it, too.  
  
As the image of those ocean-grey eyes and that slender figure skirts across his eyes and out of his vision for the last time, James wonders if he should have said something about the prophecy. No, better not to.


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